Unorthodox Measures
by LadyAlambiel
Summary: When disaster strikes, sometimes even the most conventional warrior must resort to unorthodox measures.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: When disaster strikes, sometimes even the most conventional warrior must resort to unorthodox measures.

A/N: This is part of my _A Light in the Darkness_ universe. Enjoy!

**Unorthodox Measures**

_**Part One**_

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"General Oreius, what news did the scouts bring?"

I nodded to the High King as he strode out of the tent he was sharing with his brother (who blearily followed in his wake). "The information sent by King Jukka has been verified, my Kings. A large group of these bandits are working their way toward our border and smaller parties have already harassed the villages and towns along the border. We still cannot locate their base, but it does seem that the rogues who had once been a part of the same mercenaries under that filth Heikki are a large factor in this group. They seem to have combined their forces with one of the robber barons." I flicked my tail at the sore memory that was Heikki's legacy then gestured to the map. "The scouts have reported that the bandits changed their route late yesterday afternoon and only set up a minimalistic camp well after nightfall. It would appear that they are attempting to avoid us and our original chosen point of engagement."

The High King nodded while his brother glowered at the map, clutching the cup of coffee Dame Sepphora had handed him, and snarled under his breath. Dame Sepphora glanced at me and I gave her a half-nod. She stepped closer to the map. "The terrain they're heading for is more hilly and those lovely rock outcroppings will interfere with our archers' line of sight. In short, it's a recipe for Murphy's favorite kinds of unpleasant surprises. However, we can work around that if we can keep the blackguards from splintering our numbers and drawing us into the canyons. We just need to pull them into our own trap here in the largest valley."

I nodded and resumed explaining the plan Sepphora and I had come up with this morn. Both kings nodded and interjected with their own questions or suggestions…as I had taught them. As soon as the meeting was over, we all hurried to attend to our necessary tasks. We had only a third of the army with us. By all rights that would be enough to eliminate the bandits' threat to our northwestern border. I looked across the camp, searching for Alambiel before I finally spied her readying Pepin. The silver of her armor gleamed in the morning sun as she moved with a brisk effectiveness around the horse. The polished leather of her cuirass matched the warm brown of her split riding skirt and she'd tamed her hair into a tightly braided and wrapped bun (though she still did not wear a helmet). On this day, my Alambiel was most certainly and without a shadow of a doubt acting as Dame Sepphora, Knight of Narnia.

Reaching her as she swung up into the saddle, I limited myself to nodding slightly then I adjusted the stirrup for her. "Follow the plan, Dame Sepphora. Don't change it on a whim."

The barest of smiles curved her lips as she lightly responded, "I am not that capricious, Cyneward. I won't change the plan unless I have no choice…besides I helped come up with it, so it's a good plan."

I moved one hand to cover hers as they rested lightly on the pommel and barely squeezed as I warned, "Be careful."

Her reply was almost too soft to hear as the kings rode up, "And you, Kentauri."

I stepped back and she resumed the far more serious look suitable to a knight of Narnia. Wolfsbane and How looked between us then Wolfsbane cleared his throat, "Are we ready, General?"

I gave a curt nod. "We are."

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The battle was going well. These bandits were more disciplined than others but they were not disciplined enough to best us. My biggest difficulty was keeping an eye on both Kings and Alambiel as the bandits attempted to flee toward the canyons, but our trap kept turning them back into this valley. At the moment, though the Kings were well looked after and fighting back to back with a number of our soldiers around them, while Alambiel had been unhorsed and was fighting on foot surrounded only by bandits. I fought my way to Alambiel's side. She threw one of her many daggers, dropping one of the bandits in his tracks as I cut down three who were attempting to attack her from behind. She glanced at me. "I expected you sooner."

I snorted, "Forgive the delay, Sepphora. These bandits are most unruly."

She laughed then frowned as she pointed toward the mouth of one of the canyons behind our guard line. "What does that look like to you?"

I tensed. No, that could not be. "They have reinforcements."

Alambiel hissed, "I _knew_ this was working out too smoothly."

"How did they get past our scouts?"

"Murphy's law at its finest." She glanced at me then added, "And they know the area better than we do, apparently."

She twisted and stopped a bandit in his tracks with a well-placed thrust, ducking under his outstretched sword. Then I heard the horns sounding and we both raised our voices, shouting new commands even as we kept fighting the influx of bandits. But, our forces were slowly losing ground.

Cutting down a bandit as he screamed creative profanities, I was surprised when a hand grasped my elbow. Tensing, I tightened my grip on my claymore as I glanced down to see Alambiel's disheveled face looking up at me. She hissed, "Oreius, Peter and Edmund are surrounded. Look!"

I followed her gaze and my breath caught as I watched one of the fiends sneak up behind my dark colt, slamming his club against the colt's helmeted head even as another stabbed him from the front. Edmund fell under the double assault. Peter's war cry echoed across the battlefield as he drove the dishonorable scoundrels away from his brother's prone form. But, there were too many bandits between them and other soldiers. They would be overwhelmed soon if none could reach them. I glanced around us and knew that if I left Alambiel, she would be in no less danger. She met my gaze and gave a curt nod. "Go. You can reach them faster than I can. I will be all right. Go!"

It tore at my heart to leave the one I loved most in such a vulnerable position, but… I could not leave the colts undefended. My duty forbid it. A bitter choice, with a possibly even more bitter price, but there was only one acceptable choice that my duty would allow me to make. I nodded once, "I will return to you as soon as I'm able." Then, I raced toward the Kings, praying to Aslan that I would not come to regret my decision.

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! Okay, this is set a few weeks after ****_Two Kings and a Herbivore_****. As for what happens next... Stay tuned for future updates. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: When disaster strikes, sometimes even the most conventional warrior must resort to unorthodox measures.

A/N: This is part of my _A Light in the Darkness_ universe. Enjoy!

**Unorthodox Measures**

_**Part Two**_

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Cutting through the bandits, my focus was solely on reaching my colts before they were lost to the ravenous filth. I could see others from our troops attempting to fight their way to the Kings as well, but they were still too far to be of help. I leapt over one bandit, being sure to kick him when I landed behind him, then swung my claymore to block the blow from one fiend's attempt to attack my golden colt from behind. Cutting him down, I turned my attention to clearing a larger area around where the High King yet stood protectively over his fallen brother. My dark colt was far too pale and a growing stain of blood darkened his red tunic. _Aslan, let the colt live._

I continued to fight with sword, fists, and hooves. Peter in his golden fury attacked whenever some fool of a bandit made a short-lived attempt to finish off Edmund. Watching him in this battle-rage, when he became one with Rhindon and was truly the Sword of Narnia, was a magnificent sight, even when I merely spied it out the corner of my eye. My hard gaze swept over the bandits. Fools they were to have unleashed the full fury of the High King upon those dared render harm to his brother…and now, they were realizing it.

Though their reinforcements had more than doubled their numbers, they knew fear and were not so disciplined as to withstand our rally. I reared, raising my voice in a loud war cry, and more than a score other voices echoed in answer. Our troops were fast recovering from the surprise attack by the bandits' reinforcements. The bandits who were out of reach of our blades now cast desperate, searching gazes around, attempting to find some dark hole where they might flee.

With twin roars came Peter's Tiger guards, claws outstretched and fangs flashing as they charged into the line of bandits. Behind them were others, all with claws and steel bared as they raced to push the bandits back from where Peter and I guarded Edmund. I glanced to where I had last left Alambiel. She was still fighting alone and unaided but twice as many bandits struggled to flee the deadly kiss of her knives as strove to attack her.

"Oreius!"

My attention snapped back to the High King who was kneeling next to Edmund, his gloved hands awash with blood as he pressed against his brother's wound. No. I met my golden colt's gaze and recognized the fear of losing his brother within their depths. "Oreius, his wound is too deep. He can't stay out here, not if he is to…to survive." Peter's gaze was fraught with stress as he warred over his decision. I knew it too well: if he were to take his brother off the field, it could dishearten our troops and give courage to the enemy, ending the rout too soon. If he did not take his brother off the field, Edmund could bleed to death before someone could go back to fetch the healers. His blue gaze turned icy and determined and I knew he had reached a decision. "You must take him back."

I nodded, "It will be faster." I assessed the battle raging on around us. There were enough soldiers here to guard Wolfsbane's back and prevent him from being overwhelmed (provided he did not find a way to run out too far ahead of them…again) in my absence. I could not see Alambiel, but the roiling knot of bodies where she'd been proved she was still in the middle of the fight.

Peter clasped my forearm, his brother's blood transferring to stain my vambrace, as urgency slipped into his voice as he ordered, "You must stay with him, Oreius. Please. Stay with my brother since I cannot."

I bowed my head solemnly. "I will do so. Send relief to Dame Sepphora. She fights alone."

"Not for long."

It was not the promise I had given her, but I knew what my Alambiel would say and I knew what she would throw at me if I even considered putting her above my wounded colt's more pressing need. As tenderly as I could, I lifted my dark colt. He made no sound, not even a whimper, but the pool of blood where he'd been lying was larger than I had expected or wanted to see. He was in sore need of the healers. Wheeling around, I raced away from the battlefield, carrying my dark colt and praying that I would reach the camp fast enough.

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My dark colt looked too thin and too vulnerable as he slept. His skin was so leached of color in contrast to his dark hair that it was as though death had already stolen his final breath. The only break in that dread illusion was the nearly imperceptible rise and fall of the blankets covering him. His blood still stained my armor, but it was merely another reminder of how close I had come to losing one of my colts. There had been too many incidents already since that ill-fated journey to treacherous Telmar had nearly killed my golden colt.

The sound of running feet caused me to reflexively wrap my hands around the hilts of my swords, ready to draw them in defense of my colt, as I wheeled to face the entrance of the tent as a body hurtled inside. Disheveled, covered in blood, sweat, and dirt, and with some bruises, Peter looked most disreputable as he charged toward his brother. Fearing he would wake the dark colt too soon, I caught him before he could reach the cot. I spoke quickly before Peter assumed the worst and struggled. "He sleeps, my King." My golden colt stilled and lowered his head, releasing a deep sigh of relief. I continued in a soft whisper, "The healers want him to be allowed to sleep until he wakes on his own. The wound was grave, but the filth's sword was deflected off your brother's ribs and did not pierce anything vital. He probably has a concussion from the blow to his head, but the helmet took the brunt of it."

The High King nodded once and I released him, watching as he crossed to his brother's side. As he unfolded a camp stool and sat upon it, taking up his vigil, I knew this was not the High King keeping watch over his fellow injured king, but the elder brother not daring to turn away from his wounded brother until such time as the younger woke. I quietly exited the tent and whispered instructions to the guards that they were to summon the healers to tend to the High King but all other non-urgent business should be redirected to myself or my captains and lieutenants for the time being. The camp was inundated with soldiers and healers and even a few prisoners, and still more were returning. It would not be long before Alambiel returned, most likely grumbling about her Murphy and how he'd plagued us with his law.

As the hours passed, a feeling of anxiety began to creep over me. I had not seen nor heard from Alambiel yet and one of my lieutenants had just reported that the last of our wounded (no lives had been lost in spite of the ambush, Aslan be praised) had been gathered from the battlefield. After finalizing the perimeter guards, I left my tent intent upon finding Alambiel. I passed her tent, which still had its flaps tied back confirming that she was not there and I did not see her armor cast rather haphazardly across the foot of the cot, and set out for the healing ward. Perhaps she was injured or had simply thrown herself into aiding with the care of the wounded. It was not uncommon for her to do so. Surely, I would find her there.

Entering the tent designated as the healing ward, I surveyed both wounded and healers. We had not brought any of the Nymphs in the army with us. I knew in a glance that Alambiel was not here. Where was she? Searching out one of my lieutenants, I barely kept my concern to a minimum as I asked the question that was haunting me, "Has Dame Sepphora returned to the camp?"

He shook his head. The dread in my heart multiplied even before he spoke, "None have seen her, General."

A messenger ran up to us, carrying news that the Kings were requesting my presence. Would that I could be in two places at once. I gave the messenger a curt nod then turned back to my lieutenant. "Take some of the Great Cats and the Wolves and other Animals who've the best noses back to the battlefield and search for any sign of Dame Sepphora. She may have chosen to trail the bandits in hopes of finding their base of operations. Send a messenger back if you find anything of note."

"Yes, General." If they found nothing by the time I finished speaking with the Kings, I would go out there myself. She had to be out there somewhere.

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"General, Your Majesties!" One of the Swallows who scouted for the army flitted into the tent, her voice breathless, and circled our heads before settling on top of the weapons stand. "Lieutenant Dalibor has returned with an emissary!"

My colts exchanged puzzled looks then the High King wondered aloud, "An emissary, Celandine? Are you certain?"

The Swallow bobbed her entire body as she answered, "Yes, Your Majesty, I saw that he bore no weapons and carried the branch to signal his role of emissary. Lieutenant Dalibor and the others under his command have returned to the camp and await your word to bring the emissary to you."

My dark colt groaned as he attempted to get out of the hammock, "Great, that's just what we need."

The High King immediately placed a restraining hand to his shoulder. "The healers said you shouldn't go gallivanting about just yet. You haven't even been awake for a full hour, Ed. Oreius and I can see what this emissary wants, while you-"

Edmund glowered at him and snapped, "So he can take a report back to whoever is behind this assault on our borders that one of the kings of Narnia was too wounded to even leave his tent? No. Help me up."

Clearing my throat, I interceded before the argument brewing between my colts could fully erupt. "I believe the Just King is correct in this instant, Your Majesty. If he does not at least make a token appearance, it could embolden those who escaped. However, you are correct that it is too soon for your brother to be exerting himself to any great extent." I raised a hand to stave off the protest I knew had just sprung to King Edmund's lips as I continued, "May I suggest we construct an air of seeming indifference? If your majesties were both seated when the emissary is brought before you, this man is unlikely to assume that King Edmund's wounds are too severe."

Edmund responded by reaching up and ripping off the bandage that had been wrapped around his head.

"Ed!"

My dark colt merely shot his brother a challenging look. "Having a bandage around my head would ruin the image that I'm not badly wounded, which I'm not. You and the healers are just being worriers again."

He managed to get to his feet, but would have collapsed had his brother not caught him. "Oh right, Ed, we're just worrying over nothing. If you pull your stitches, you'll stay in here even if I have to wrap you up in the hammock and tie it together."

I turned to the Swallow. "Celandine, inform Lieutenant Dalibor that he is to keep this so-called emissary at the edge of the camp for twenty minutes." The Swallow once again bobbed her entire body then flitted back out the tent.

Twenty minutes later, both Kings were seated on folding stools, I stood to their right, and the High King's Tigers bracketed us with other soldiers forming an obvious yet not too overbearing honor guard. Folding my arms over my chest, I kept my face impassive even as I scanned the soldiers approaching us. There was no sign of Alambiel. The feeling of unease was growing in leaps and bounds, but I strove to reason with my fear concerning her continued absence. If the emissary approached before the search was well underway, perhaps Lieutenant Dalibor had had to call off the search since it would have depleted his numbers too much to proceed safely.

The emissary looked as though he were more comfortable pillaging an undefended village than participating in any facsimile of diplomacy. I narrowed my eyes at him and he flinched, his hand reaching to his belt, searching for a weapon that was not there. Then he cleared his throat and turned his attention to the Kings. "I bring a message from the Lord of the West for the boy kings."

My Kings exchanged a look and I could tell they were amused that even now eight years after they began their reign, the insults remained unchanged and were rather inaccurate by the standards of the Sons of Adam. The Just King nodded, "We will hear this message from your ambitious master."

His tone was cool and uninterested. This so-called emissary did not yet realize that my dark colt was most dangerous when he did not show his temper. The man dared to sneer at the Kings. "He wishes to conduct an exchange. Our men for information."

"And, what information does your master hold that it should be worth the release of men who may very well be used to immediately attack that which is under Our protection?" King Edmund narrowed his eyes at the man as he coolly demanded, "Well, what say you or did your master give you no reply?"

A glint of contempt and something else, something more sinister, appeared in the so-called emissary's eyes. I casually lowered my arms, lightly gripping the hilts of my swords. The man curled his lip in an ugly sneer then tossed the lumpy package he'd been carrying under one arm to the ground. There was a faint metallic ring when it landed. The bandit emissary stepped back and spat, "Open the package and you will know."

I nodded to Lieutenant Dalibor and the Satyr came forward, untying the bindings. He tensed and took a single step back, revealing the contents. My breath caught in my throat and I struggled to maintain my composure. No, this could not be true. In the center of the unwrapped package was a tangle of armor and knives…armor and knives I recognized all too well. The silver chain mail, leather cuirass, twin knives and several daggers. Alambiel's armor. Alambiel's knives. My eyes were drawn to one of the smaller daggers, her boot knife; the blade was completely covered in blood. The dread thought took ahold of me that it was Alambiel's blood. If it was, would we even find her alive? _Oh Aslan…_

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! Dun dun duuuuuuuun! Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one and what your theories are for what you think happens next. **


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: When disaster strikes, sometimes even the most conventional warrior must resort to unorthodox measures.

A/N: This is part of my _A Light in the Darkness_ universe. Enjoy!

**Unorthodox Measures**

_**Part Three**_

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It took every ounce of my control to resist the urge to grab that fiend claiming to be an emissary and enlighten him to the fact that taking Alambiel, bringing harm to her, was the last foolish decision he and his master would ever make. Fury raged with horror at the thought that the blood covering Alambiel's boot knife was hers and I could barely attend to the conversation around me enough to nod to Lieutenant Dalibor when the High King commanded that this poor excuse of an emissary be taken to a tent to await their decision. As soon as he was beyond line of sight and out of earshot, my colts exchanged grim looks then the High King beckoned to one of the Wolves. "Check whose blood it is, Vahan."

Vahan Windwolf, Vardan's eldest son, stepped forward, his muzzle wrinkling as he inhaled the scents. I struggled to keep myself from demanding he speak of his findings at once. He was still checking, but surely, if it were Alambiel's blood, he would have said so immediately. I clung to the faint hope that it was not Alambiel's lifeblood that stained the blade of that knife, trying to ignore the dread feeling that it was hers and the unease that accompanied the knowledge that Alambiel would have to be in dire straits before she would resort to her boot knife in the midst of battle. _Please, Great Lion, do not let this dread be accurate. _

The Wolf lifted his grey head and I read reluctance in his gaze as he glanced at me then turned his full attention to the Kings. "Your Majesties know well that Dame Sepphora's scent differs from that of a full-blooded Human. Because of this, I can tell that her scent is the only one associated with the bloody blade, but another's, a full-blooded Human's, scent mixes with hers on the hilt and the scent of this stranger is fresher than that of Dame Sepphora's. I believe the knife was used by another at the same time Dame Sepphora's blood covered the blade. The scents smell as though they are the same age, perhaps four hours old."

No. I flicked my tail but managed to keep from vehemently denying Vahan's words. My heart did not wish to believe it. Peter leaned forward slightly, his gaze intense, as he queried, "But, you can't confirm how the blood came to decorate the blade or that it is without a doubt Dame Sepphora's blood, can you?"

Vahan shook his head. "No, your majesty, I cannot. However, I believe it highly unlikely that it is anyone but Dame Sepphora's blood. The scent is too memorable and too strong to be another's blood merely covering her blade."

My golden colt nodded, dismissing Vahan, and then his brother spoke up, "They didn't offer her as trade. Peter, if this were a true prisoner exchange, why would they only offer a vague promise of information instead of actually offering to exchange Kat for the return of our prisoners?"

That question was already haunting me. Why offer information instead of offering Alambiel? Was she too badly wounded? The thought was nigh unbearable and I turned to the hope that if Alambiel had received a mortal wound, then the bandits' pretense of an emissary would have brought her body to taunt us. Armor and weapons did not mean she was beyond aid and I would see that aid found her.

The High King shook his head, "I don't know, Ed. We'll have to ask him." He paused as concern entered his blue eyes while he studied his brother's face. "Are you still feeling up to this, Edmund? Maybe we should continue without you?"

Studying my dark colt, I could see that what little color had returned to his naturally pale complexion had once again drained away, leaving Edmund whiter than the pale white of his under tunic. But, his dark brows came together and his mouth turned down in a scowl as he snapped, "No you bloody well will not continue without me! We already discussed this, Peter. I have to be here for the negotiations or that miscreant of a two-faced, underhanded, caitiff, purloining scapegrace will take a report back to this robber baron styling himself as "the Lord of the West" that says we've been weakened. Not to mention, they'll probably take it to mean that we won't be able to do anything if they don't return Kat." Peter opened his mouth to protest but my dark colt merely continued in a savage hiss, "Lion's Whiskers, Peter, I tell you I'm fine!" He jumped to his feet, somehow paled even further, and crumpled. He would have hit the ground had his brother not already launched himself to catch him.

Peter shook his head, muttering ruefully, "Right, you're just fine. Stubborn fool." He carefully lifted his brother then turned to me, "It's almost dark. We'll continue these negotiations tomorrow morn after my brother's body has a chance to catch up with his stubbornness, so he can at least sit for a while without fainting."

I bowed, smothering the protest that had sprung to my lips, I would not argue with my King in front of an audience. "Yes, my King." I issued the orders for a tripling of the guard not only around this so-called emissary's tent but also around the Kings' tent. I took Alambiel's armor and knives to her tent myself. I knew how meticulous she was regarding their upkeep, especially her knives. She would be greatly vexed if they were not properly cleaned and polished. I busied my hands with seeing that each blade would pass Alambiel's inspection even as my mind raced with the thoughts and fears that she was grievously injured or even dead. I had promised her that she would not be forced to fight alone. I had not kept that promise, even in my poor attempt to send a proxy in my stead to relieve her. I had failed her.

My gaze was drawn to the blood staining the cleaning rag…her blood. Some of it had transferred to my hand…her blood was on my hands. I felt the weight of guilt add itself to the dread that already constricted my heart. I was pledged to be her shield, doubly so now that I courted her, and I had failed her terribly this day. Leaving the now cleaned armor and weapons in Alambiel's tent, I walked through the camp attempting to corral my emotions. But the vision of the bloody blade and the blood on my hand haunted me. I needed to know what had happened after I carried Edmund away from the battlefield…

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Night had fallen when I returned to the Kings' tent, but there was no time to waste…we'd already wasted enough. Peter was once again sitting by his brother's side, jerking out of his light doze when I entered. He instinctively shot a worried glance at his brother, but the dark colt was still sleeping peacefully. Then he turned his questioning gaze to me. "Oreius, what is it?"

"Alambiel never received aid on the battlefield, she was completely cut off and none thought to report it until I questioned them more thoroughly." I took a breath, reminding myself that it was not the colt's fault that those he'd told to aid my Alambiel were bogged down in their own fights. Nevertheless, I could still hear the strain in my own voice as I spoke again, "We must force this bandit to show the way to the robber baron's base camp. Alambiel must be there and if we leave her in their hands overlong…she may not survive."

The High King was already shaking his head before I'd even finished speaking. "No, Oreius, you know the regulations for negotiating a prisoner exchange forbid using an emissary, even if we don't think much of him, in such a manner. Kat's life would be forfeit if we did that."

"Her life is forfeit the longer she remains in their grasp. These men have ties to Heikki. We should not expect them to act as though they have a better grasp of honor than that snake. These negotiations are but a façade that only wins Alambiel's captors more time to harm her further. We betray her trust if we do not act now."

Peter rose from the folding stool, his gaze pained but his voice was calm as he met my eyes unflinchingly, "General Oreius, Narnia cannot abandon the route of negotiation at this time. We shall simply have to trust to Aslan to keep Kat between His paws until such time as we are able to act in a more direct manner."

I clenched my fists, struggling to maintain my composure, to resist shouting that I knew my Alambiel did not have that time. The negotiation was merely a tactic to delay us. Instead, I bowed stiffly, "I understand, my King, that Narnia cannot pursue this course of action. Forgive me for disturbing you. I hope your brother wakes in the morn feeling stronger."

Returning to my own tent, I stamped a hoof. Alambiel was in danger and I would never forgive myself if my failure to keep my promise, to act, cost my love her life. But, there was a way… A way I normally would never consider, too unorthodox, too outside the rules and regulations that accompanied my life as a soldier, as the General. As the High King had said, _Narnia_ could not abandon the negotiation, decoy though it may be, but an ordinary Narnian could if he did not do so representing Narnia. I stripped off my armor, removing that which would readily identify me as the General of Narnia, whose actions would always be interpreted as representing those of Narnia herself. No, I would not be the General. I would be nothing more than a simple Centaur who is searching for his abducted lady. Narnia would not be blamed for my actions. I would face a penalty when I returned, no doubt, but if I returned with Alambiel alive, I would gladly take whatever punishment the Kings handed down.

The soldiers on watch would not question me. What reason would they have? I left my tent, being thankful that the moon was but a sliver of light this night. I went back to Alambiel's tent and took her healing kit before I headed for the border of the camp. One of the guards noted my departure, but did not delay me as I knew they would not. I took the long way back to the battlefield, searching out the place where I'd last seen her and then I would turn my search northwest, the direction where Lieutenant Dalibor and the others had seen the bandits' decoy emissary emerging from and where I felt my Alambiel had been taken. _Hold on, my milis cantalach, hold on, I'm coming. _

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! **

**A/N2: Attention anyone who is a member of the Narnia Still Lives forum! The nominations for the Narnia Still Lives Fanfic Awards 2013 are underway. Please nominate those stories and authors who stood out with their writing in 2013 and should win one of the awards. Nominations close March 1st. And remember anyone can join the forum, only an introduction is required, and then make your nominations. **

**Full details can be found at the Narnia Still Lives Forum (the top forum when one clicks on The Chronicles of Narnia forums) under Honoring the Heroes: Nominating for the 2013 Fanfic Awards thread (top thread).  
**

**Lady Alambiel **

**Awards Coordinator**


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: When disaster strikes, sometimes even the most conventional warrior must resort to unorthodox measures.

A/N: This is part of my _A Light in the Darkness_ universe. Enjoy!

**Unorthodox Measures**

_**Part Four**_

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My brother's shout was what ultimately cut through the pleasant haze. "What?!" I heard someone, maybe it was one of Peter's Tigers (my Wolves were too young and inexperienced to participate in battle…so I assigned them to bug Susan), reply but I couldn't make out what they said. Peter, however, continued to be loud and clear as he paced (judging by how his voice would come closer then retreat), "When was he last seen?"

Another low answer that I didn't bother to strain to hear. I was more focused on attempting to force my eyes open. I cracked my eyelids and rasped, "Peter?"

I heard the whisper of the tent flap as someone left and then Peter's face appeared right in my line of sight. "Edmund? What do you need? Do I need to summon the healers?"

I scowled as I pulled my head back and muttered, "No. I don't need those dratted healers. I'm fine."

"You fainted yesterday."

"I did not!" Changing the subject before the nitwit could say something insufferable, I crossly demanded, "What were you yelling about anyway?" My brother looked away. My scowl deepened. "Well? What was it? Peter?"

His reply was so quiet that I almost didn't hear him. "I think Oreius has gone rogue."

I blinked then carefully sat up in my hammock, being mindful of my protesting wound, and stared at my brother who looked rather miserable. "What?"

"He's gone, Ed. He wanted us to go after Kat last night, force this emissary to lead us back to the base camp, but I refused. I had to refuse, Ed, you know that. I didn't want to, but Narnia can't just abandon negotiations and use more aggressive tactics on a whim. I told him that and Oreius said he understood that it wasn't an option. But, this morn, first the emissary demands to be allowed to leave to "consult" his master and then when I sent for Oreius to get his opinion of the matter, Vahan Windwolf reported he was gone. Apparently, he left camp last night and hasn't come back."

For a moment, I didn't say anything as I focused on sifting through the tale and trying to figure out…oh. "Peter, did Oreius say he understood that _he_ couldn't leave the decoy negotiations (as I agree this is most likely a delaying tactic), or did he say he understood that _Narnia_ couldn't leave the negotiations?" I had my answer as soon as Peter turned back toward me. That would fit with Oreius and I knew he would have gone after any of us if we had been captured, but for him to leave Kat? No, that wasn't Oreius at all. Nevertheless, if he had gone rogue, things could be very complicated when he returned. I knew why this was troubling Peter so much. Narnia's laws were quite clear that for any soldier, much less the General of the Army, to go rogue there were a number of harsh penalties typically handed down…including the removal of the offender from his or her position. I scowled, "Let's go inspect the good General's tent."

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Tracking these bandits was not as easy as I had hoped. The greatest difficulty was determining which of the freshest tracks I should follow as they constantly split then came together again at various points. Glancing over my shoulder, I noted the sun's position indicated it was already past noon. I had thought I had found something to help me track the fiends, something I had noticed among the tracks. Ah, there it was. One of the horses had an odd print due to the fact that it had a mended shoe. Now that would be easy to track.

The trail became less muddled as I followed it further west and slightly north as more and more tracks joined it but very few if any broke off. The area was just far enough south to avoid the attention of the Giants. Perhaps this was the base camp our scouts had been searching for? The shadows grew longer as the sun drew closer to the western horizon and I took care to stay within them. I rounded a bend and stopped. Spread out before me in the midst of a bowl-shaped valley was a ramshackle collection of ragged-looking tents and haphazardly built huts. The robber baron and the rest of his ilk had constructed a town of sorts…and I would rip it all down if necessary to find where they took Alambiel.

Much as it chafed at me, I forced myself to wait. I would have a greater advantage if I approached after dark, just as when I led raids against Jadis' Secret Police and other strongholds where the Witch had horded what little extraneous food stores were available during the Long Winter. Same tactics, an even more precious goal. I scouted the "town" from the shadows, searching out the weak points that I could best use to my advantage and attempting to assess how many people had gathered under this robber baron. Twice I had to hide to escape detection as men on horseback galloped into the valley, but finally the shadows blended with the night and I approached this den of robbers and mercenaries.

It was almost too easy as I had observed there was but one man assigned to the watch and he had already sunk deep into his cups before the sun had even set. Still, I knew better than to approach this town as though I were not alone. I stayed in the shadows, listening to the drunken and coarse conversations around me for any clue that one of these ignominious cowards would know where my Alambiel was being held. A woman's scream pierced the air and I nearly broke cover as I hurried in its direction but I hadn't even set one hoof outside the protection of the shadows when I heard the scream again only this time it was followed by laughter. It was not Alambiel. Though I was relieved it was not Alambiel's screams I had heard, I felt pity for the woman who did not honor herself enough to demand these men treat her with respect. I turned away, shadowing other robbers and mercenaries who were too busy distracting themselves to pay heed to their surroundings, hoping and praying that I would hear something that could lead me to Alambiel.

I paused behind one darkened tent, steadily ignoring the sounds within, and peered at a building across the way that judging by the steady stream of men into it was the tavern. Fury coursed through me as one man stumbled out and his face was momentarily lit by a lantern before he cursed and staggered for the shadows. That pretender of an emissary. He would know where Alambiel was being held. I would have preferred charging across the way and running the man down, but that wasn't wise. Instead, I skulked behind him, always taking care not to be seen until he stopped and began fumbling with his trousers. It was an opportunity and I wearied of shadowing him.

Seizing him by the throat, I squeezed hard enough to keep him from drawing enough breath to cry out an alarm then lifted him up. His hands were clammy as he clung to my wrist and his eyes bulged with fear. "Where did your master take the Narnian woman?"

His words slurred together into an indecipherable whimper and I growled, "Tell me or you will not live long enough to regret it."

That startled him into talking. He squirmed and gasped, "She is not held here. The men would not be able to resist such a comely wench-" My grip tightened and he choked then his tone became far more obsequious as he whispered, "The we- The woman is being held in the caves a league north under heavy guard."

"How many?"

"A dozen and the Lord of the West told them that they would have their picks of his own personal group of women if they left the Narnian woman alone."

I did not bother to hide my distaste for this poor excuse of a creature but, thank Aslan, his information should help me find Alambiel. Before I could press him further on the identity of his master and why Alambiel was taken, however, a shout sounded behind me. I dropped the man and moved. The false emissary was not so fortunate as he was impaled by the spear that had been meant for me. I drew my swords, facing my adversaries. I could hear the shouts ringing through the robbers' town. My presence was no longer a secret and, apparently, I would indeed tear this town apart before I went after my Alambiel. Charging the robbers, I prayed that Aslan would keep Alambiel safe for a little while longer, just until I could find these caves.

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one and what you think will happen next.**

**ATTENTION!**

**Attention anyone who is a member of the Narnia Still Lives forum! The nominations for the Narnia Still Lives Fanfic Awards 2013 are underway. Please nominate those stories and authors who stood out with their writing in 2013 and should win one of the awards. Nominations close March 1st. And remember anyone can join the forum, only an introduction is required, and then make your nominations. **

**Full details can be found at the Narnia Still Lives Forum (the top forum when one clicks on The Chronicles of Narnia forums) under Honoring the Heroes: Nominating for the 2013 Fanfic Awards thread (top thread). **

**Lady Alambiel **

**Awards Coordinator**


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: When disaster strikes, sometimes even the most conventional warrior must resort to unorthodox measures.

A/N: This is part of my _A Light in the Darkness_ universe. Enjoy!

**Unorthodox Measures**

_**Part Five**_

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The robbers' town was no more. One of the cowards had knocked over a brazier when he fled my blade and the ramshackle collection of tents and huts caught fire before any could react. The filth scattered like vermin, though some still attempted to delay me. I did not hunt down those fled west, if I had a troop at my command things would have turned out differently, but I did not and my only concern was preventing word reaching those caves before I could.

Galloping north, I knew that I could not let the guards have a chance to warn any inside the caves with Alambiel. There were seven men lounging around a brazier outside the cave entrance. Due to the terrain, they had not seen the flames from the town and the night was too dark for them to detect the smoke. Charging out of the shadows, I watched fear paralyze two but the others leapt (or staggered) to their feet and ran at me with their weapons drawn.

Only two of the men had spears, but they were all just skilled enough to prove somewhat challenging. One of the mercenary thieves ran up behind me, intent upon hamstringing me. Lunging forward, I grabbed a spear and wheeled around, pulling the spearman with me. His spear skewered the other mercenary then I cut him down as he swiped at my horse ribs with a short sword. It did not take much longer to rid myself of all but one of the two men who had not originally attacked. Though his comrade had rallied enough to attempt and fail at attacking me, this man merely shrank back as I turned to him. His nervous gaze darted to my bloodied blades then he spun and ran into the caves.

I chased him. Lion willing, he would lead me straight to Alambiel. But, I did not relax my guard for I knew there were yet five other fiends within the caves system. He had just reached the first man when I lengthened my stride and caught up to them. The runner let out a shout that echoed through the cave and the tunnels, "Demon! A demon has come!"

I could hear answering shouts and the echoes of tramping feet even as I fought with the two men. _Aslan, don't let them go after Alambiel. Keep her safe between Thy paws. _Casting up my hurried prayers, I could only focus on fighting with my opponents. Only Aslan would be able to keep Alambiel safe in the interim and I could only hope that these dishonorable fiends would prefer coming after me and would not make any stops to do something to their prisoner.

I pressed forward, pushing the fight deeper into the cave, as three more of the mercenary guards joined in the fracas. I could tell by their fighting style that these men were veterans with proper military training. A challenge, no doubt, but I would not fail, not when I was so close to finding Alambiel. I could not fail her again. I baited the men into making mistakes, forcing them to make themselves more vulnerable even though I was somewhat disadvantaged by the closeness of the tunnel we fought in, until I had finished off the last one.

There was one more guard left. But I stood alone in the midst of the aftermath of the fight. A feminine cry of pain echoed in the distance and dread filled me. If the guard had instructions to do something permanent… _Oh Aslan, let Alambiel be safe. _

Galloping through the tunnels, I strained to hear another sound, anything, but there was only silence besides the ringing of my horseshoes against the stony floor. I ducked to avoid clipping a stalactite. Using a torch I had snatched from a mounted sconce, I searched for some sign to indicate which of the tunnels branching off from the one I was in might lead me to Alambiel.

I slowed to a stop and stood still, listening. There. I could hear a man's crude cursing coming from the tunnel that branched off from the one I was in just ahead and to the left. I placed my hooves carefully, attempting to eliminate the sound of my iron horseshoes as much as possible, as I entered the side tunnel. The ceiling was lower, uncomfortably so since I was forced to stoop slightly in order to avoid knocking my head against it. I left the torch in one of the empty wall sconces, not wanting the man to notice the increase in light, then rounded the slight curve just as the man launched into a series of vile epithets. Apparently, Alambiel had bitten him.

I recognized the sound of flesh striking flesh and fury coursed through me as I realized he had hit her. I needed to draw him out, eliminate his ability to use Alambiel as a hostage or to cause her further injury. I slammed a hoof against the stone floor. Even before the echo had died, the remaining guard emerged and threw himself at me, a wicked curved dagger in hand. I knocked his outstretched hand to the side and grabbed his head, twisting hard. A loud crack echoed softly through the tunnel and the man dropped without a sound to the ground. Stepping over his lifeless body, I carefully made my way to the opening the man had emerged from, being cautious of any other guards in case the pretender emissary had given me inaccurate information regarding their number.

Alambiel. My breath caught in my throat as I took in how she dangled from shackles that had been attached to the ceiling with a shortened chain so her feet barely brushed the floor. Her hair was no longer neatly braided and gathered into a bun; instead, long strands of hair framed her face while the bun had been unraveled into a braid as thick as my wrist until about a third of the way down where the braid had fully unraveled. Blood stained her left shoulder and side while a trickle of blood dripped from the side of her mouth and bruises decorated her face. "Alambiel."

I rushed to her, intending to raise her up so her full weight no longer fell on her wrists and shoulders, but as soon as my fingers brushed against her, she started kicking. I shifted my hands to carefully cup Alambiel's face, being mindful of her bruises, as I crooned, "No, no, no, don't fight, Alambiel, chéadsearc. Sweetheart, it is I, Oreius. You're safe now, I have you, you are safe."

Her frantic movements stilled and she opened one eye to look at me (the other was swollen shut). I could see fear and weariness in her gaze, but I also saw relief. "Oreius?" Her whisper sank into my very being, I was so relieved to hear her voice again.

I nodded as I stepped closer, gently wrapping an arm around her waist and lifting her up, "Yes, sweet, I'm here. I'm here." I kept murmuring to her, trying to reassure her that she was safe again, that there would be no more abuse coming to her as I examined the shackles. They were old and rusted.

Alambiel's voice sounded a little stronger when she spoke up as I carefully lowered her so I could grasp the right shackle with both hands, "Did you get the key?" I snapped the shackle at the joint and Alambiel mused, "Right, I forgot I was talking to the Centaur who thinks keys and lock picks are silly."

I tried to indulge her attempt at humor by murmuring, "They are silly when completely unnecessary." But, in truth, I was too horrified by the raw and bleeding state of her wrist. Oh Lion, if only I had been able to reach her sooner…if only I had been able to prevent her from being taken in the first place. I could barely meet her eyes for the guilt. "Put your arm around my neck, Alambiel. I don't want you to fall when I break the other shackle."

She wrapped her arm around my neck and I snapped the shackle. She exhaled slowly, the faintest whimper escaping, as the blood rushed back to her wounded arm. Her left wrist was in no better shape than her right. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her against my chest for several long moments before I asked, "Are you able to walk?"

She nodded against my chest and I set her on her feet, but I'd barely let go when she tried to take a step and crumpled to the ground, hissing as she clamped her hands around her ankle. "No, I twisted it and it's not strong enough to take my weight."

I lowered myself beside her, pulling her into my arms (taking care not to press her wounded shoulder against me) as I pressed my lips against her hair. "Forgive me, Alambiel, forgive me for failing you. I did not keep my promise and you have suffered for it. I came for you as fast as I could, I swear it, but forgive me for not reaching you soon enough."

She shook her head as she eased back and lightly touched her fingers to my jaw. "No. You came, that's what's important. You didn't fail. We were in the middle of a battle and you had to go help Edmund and Peter. I'm just a little banged up, Oreius."

"Alambiel, your shoulder-"

"The blackguard had a cruel streak and wanted to send a message so he stabbed me with my boot knife. It's very bloody but not actually that deep. It was just aggravated by a couple of beatings." She inhaled sharply and I abruptly loosened my hold on her. "I think I'll save the rest for the report. But you can just summon whichever healer accompanied you and I'll let them wrap my ankle before we leave."

"I didn't bring a healer. I have your healing kit. Let me carry you out of here and then you can tell me what I need to do to tend your wounds."

Alambiel was silent for a long moment but then she tilted her head back, her eyes searching mine as she whispered, "Why didn't you include a healer in your troop? Oreius? You did bring a troop with you, yes? Peter knows you are here?"

"I am certain that by now the High King and the Just King are both well aware of my absence."

The dismay that entered her face was unexpected, but then again I should not have been surprised, not when I knew my Alambiel's heart was so much more tender than others might suspect. She shook her head, "No, no, Oreius, tell me you didn't go rogue. You know the penalties. You could lose your position, be stripped of your chivalric title, or even sentenced to the dungeons for months. If you had to go rogue…oh, you should not have come after me like this."

I pushed her head back to my shoulder and held her more securely. I kissed her hair. "No, I had to come find you. I have never been one to standby idly when someone was endangered and I could do something to help. It would have taken Aslan Himself ordering me in no uncertain terms to wait before I would leave you in enemy hands, my Alambiel. You are the most important person in my life and I would never place my position above your life and your well-being. No matter what the Kings decide, no matter what penalty, a most deserved one considering my actions, they hand down, I will never blame you and I do not regret my decision to come after you." I kissed her hair again then smoothed the loose strands around her face back, "Now, let me carry you out of this dismal place then you can tell me what I must do to tend to your wounds."

Carrying her out, I was pleased that dawn was lighting the area, but I would not stop when we were still surrounded by death and destruction. There was a chance that the robber baron (who I believed was absent from both that mockery of a town and the caves) would send people back now that the smoke could be seen against the lightening horizon. I did not stop until we were well south of the trail that had led me to the robbers' town. I eased Alambiel to sit with her back against a rock then pulled out her healing kit, which she promptly took away from me.

I noted with more than a little concern that Alambiel was no longer even attempting to move her left arm and the bloodstain seemed larger than before. Taking one of the two water flasks I had brought, I rummaged through the pack I had hastily thrown together until I could find a handkerchief. Soaking the handkerchief, I knelt in front of Alambiel and carefully wiped away the dirt and blood on her face, being mindful not to press too hard on her bruises. She gave me a weary smile and I touched my forehead to hers. "I love you, Alambiel."

"Is breá liom tú ró." _(I love you too.)_

I kissed her temple then took the healing supplies she had pulled out from her. Following Alambiel's instructions, I wrapped a bandage over her wounded shoulder, which covered most of the blood staining her clothing, then cut off her boot to reveal her discolored and swollen ankle. I looked up at her protest and stated calmly, "Alambiel, you've still three pairs of boots in your wardrobe, do you not?" She gave me a very reluctant nod. "Good then you've no reason to complain about my cutting off this boot so I might wrap your ankle before the swelling worsens."

"It's the principle of the matter."

I just shook my head as I wrapped her ankle. I was glad she was showing enough spirit as to grumble about her boots. Nevertheless, I knew she needed the attention of the healers. But, first… I drew her braid over her shoulder and re-braided the unraveled section, knowing she would feel more comfortable that way. She touched my hand and smiled when I looked at her. "Thank you, Oreius."

I didn't answer right away. Instead, I pulled out the blanket I had brought with me and wrapped it around her slender frame before I picked her up. I kissed her hair, her forehead, and then placed a very tender kiss on her lips. "It is time to go home, my Alambiel, and no matter what happens when we return, I want you to know that I would do it again, whatever it took and whatever it cost, I would do it again to bring you back safe."

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one. Next chapter will be the epilogue.**

**ATTENTION!**

**Attention anyone who is a member of the Narnia Still Lives forum! The nominations for the Narnia Still Lives Fanfic Awards 2013 are underway. Please nominate those stories and authors who stood out with their writing in 2013 and should win one of the awards. Nominations close March 1st. And remember anyone can join the forum, only an introduction is required, and then make your nominations. **

**Full details can be found at the Narnia Still Lives Forum (the top forum when one clicks on The Chronicles of Narnia forums) under Honoring the Heroes: Nominating for the 2013 Fanfic Awards thread.**

**Lady Alambiel **

**Awards Coordinator**


	6. Epilogue

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: When disaster strikes, sometimes even the most conventional warrior must resort to unorthodox measures.

A/N: This is part of my _A Light in the Darkness_ universe. Enjoy!

**Unorthodox Measures**

_**Epilogue**_

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A week after I had first left the camp to find Alambiel and two days after the troops returned to Cair Paravel, I was summoned to appear before the Kings. Entering the council room typically reserved for military matters, I was only slightly surprised that besides the Kings themselves none save the higher-ranking officers and one scribe were present. I stopped before the thrones and bowed, "Your Majesties."

The High King nodded, "General Oreius. You know why We have summoned you?"

"I presume it is in reference to my actions a sennight past."

"It is. You left the camp after battle and ignoring Our own words on the matter concerning the rescue of Dame Sepphora, which We had hoped to achieve through negotiations though in truth We and Our Royal Brother did suspect that the negotiations were but a front. By all rights, General Sir Oreius Cyneward, your actions should be construed as those of one who has gone rogue." The High King met my eyes solemnly. "Are you aware of this?"

I bowed once more. "I am, Your Majesty. I was aware of how my actions would be construed when I first chose to leave the encampment."

The Just King leaned forward then and spoke in the same cool voice I had heard him use these past eight years when he sat in the role of judge, "Then you are acquainted with the entire litany of punishments customarily handed down to those military officers who have gone rogue in the past? Rogue officers are usually punished with having their pay reduced by at least two ranks, which for you would mean a reduction from twelve Lions each Sixthday to four Lions each Sixthday, for a prescribed amount of time, which can range up to four years. Other punishments would include a reduction in military rank, the stripping of the offender's chivalric title, confinement to the barracks, imprisonment in the dungeons, a cessation of any pay for up to two years, or receiving a dishonorable discharge with no hope of returning to military service. You understand these punishments are applicable to you, General Sir Oreius Cyneward?"

I knew it, I understood it far better than even Alambiel did and she had been concerned over what would happen with what she did know. I nodded curtly. "I understand any and all of the punishments may be applied to me, Just King."

"Then understanding how your actions would be construed and having full knowledge of the range of the available punishments for your actions, will you explain to Us why you still resolved to follow this particular course of action?"

"I've never been one to stand by idly when someone was endangered and I could do something to aid them. Ask any of those gathered here who have known me through the Long Winter and Your Majesties' reign. They will confirm this is true. I knew Dame Sepphora was in grave danger, as that had become exceedingly clear with the presentation of her armor and blades, one of which was covered in her blood. Due to the circumstances I could not take a troop to rescue her and flush out the robber baron's men, so I chose to go myself as a private citizen."

King Edmund nodded. "And did the fact that you are courting Dame Sepphora have any bearing on your actions, General Sir Oreius Cyneward?"

I gave a slight bow as I answered, "I would attempt to rescue any who had fallen into the same situation, My King." I paused, weighing my words for what I freely said to Alambiel I did not deem suitable to say before an audience, most especially within a formal hearing that was being transcribed. Then I continued, maintaining my formal tone, as suited the situation. "Nevertheless, I do not deny that my...particular connection with Dame Sepphora had a substantive role in my decision to proceed with my plan."

The Just King studied me and I knew that he was probably weighing the same question that had been mentioned when Alambiel and I finally revealed our courtship exactly one month ago. The same question that was always asked when two members of the military court or marry: would the bond between our hearts interfere with the completion of and adherence to our duties? I had personally reassured him and his brother both that it would not. And in truth, it did not this time for I _had_ completed my duties before I went to find Alambiel. His dark eyes met mine and he nodded once, "For your sake, General, it is well that Ourself and Our Royal Brother, the High King, inspected your tent after We learned of your absence as We discovered something that proved to ameliorate the situation."

He leaned back and my golden colt, the High King, spoke up once more. "Our inspection uncovered your armor, that which would identify you as Our General, had been left behind in your tent. Therefore, it is clear to Us that Our General never left camp. We will not cite you with the charge of abandoning your post or as having gone rogue since you did return promptly and were absent less than three days."

I could not deny the sense of relief that I would not be stripped of my position. Then the Just King raised his hand and my dark colt met my eyes with a stern expression, alerting me to the fact that merciful though my Kings might be, I was still to be punished (as is only just). "However, We suggest that if ever a private gentleman were known in the future to endanger himself and others by his recklessness in a similar case again, he should be horsewhipped. Furthermore, since you freely acknowledge that you were aware that your actions would be construed as those of one who had gone rogue, General Sir Oreius Cyneward, your pay will be docked for the duration of five weeks so you might receive four Lions each Sixthday within that time including today instead of your customary amount. It is Our decision that you will also take part in the extended patrol that is scheduled to leave the Cair this coming Firstday. Have you any objection to the fairness of your determined punishment, General Sir Oreius Cyneward?"

I bowed. "I have none, My King, and I thank you and your brother, the High King, for the mercy you have shown in this matter."

The Kings exchanged looks then the High King turned back to me. "Then We trust that you will not resort to such actions without Our blessing again?"

"I give you my word that I will not do so, My Kings."

King Edmund nodded. "Very well, then this tribunal is over."

I watched as the other officers and the scribe filed out, but before I could take my leave, the Kings called my name. I turned back to them just as they rose from their thrones, stepping off the dais. Now, I was being addressed by my colts and not solely my sovereigns. My golden colt clasped my forearm, grinning. "Ed and I are both glad that you and Kat came out of the situation last week with no more hurt than was already sustained. I know it could have been a lot worse."

"Aslan was with us both."

Peter nodded, "And how is Kat doing? Is she still chafing about being on bed rest until her ankle finishes healing?"

I chuckled, "I am afraid so, though her wrists were bad enough that she still would not have been permitted to do much even without her sprained ankle. But, she should be completely healed soon and well before your wedding."

Edmund smirked. "Be sure to warn Kat that Susan and Lucy are plotting to descend on her with Tuulea and Thalia for more wedding madness. And Oreius, tell Kat she's not allowed to get into any more situations like the one last week because now we know for sure how you'll react."

I huffed a little laugh, catching the hidden meaning that my colts did understand why I did what I did and that they would have expected no less from me, and bowed. "I will tell her."

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Entering Alambiel's quarters, I admit I was slightly concerned when I saw she was preoccupied with writing something. When she was forced to rest (be it in bed, or, as of this particular moment, on her settee) and not grumbling about it as soon as she saw me, she was most often up to no good. "Alambiel, what mischief are you up to now?"

She didn't even look away from the portable writing desk resting on her lap as she answered, "I thought it would be amusing to send a declaration of war to the Lone Islands."

I opened my mouth then shut it. Surely, she could not be serious. Shaking my head, and already planning a suitable lecture, I approached the settee and made no pretense about my intention of reading what she was drafting. She pursed her lips but said nothing. Looking at the parchment, I had to laugh when I saw what she had written in her pretty script: _Ha. Made you look._ I shook my head and leaned down to press a kiss against her forehead then whispered, "Must you delight in deviling me so, Minx?"

She laughed even as I lifted the portable writing desk out of the way then slid another pillow underneath her wrapped ankle. "It's too much fun to resist, Kentuari." When her laughter died down, she watched me for several long moments before she finally asked the question I would not be astonished to learn she'd been mulling over all day. "What did Peter and Edmund hand down as your penalty?"

Taking her hand, I lightly rubbed my thumb over the scar gracing the back of it then I kissed her fingers. "They were merciful and decreed that their General had never left the camp. However, I am still having my wages docked for this month and…I shall have to accompany the extended patrol that departs Cair Paravel on Firstday."

Alambiel raised an eyebrow. "You mean the one that is going to last about six weeks because of the surveying of border patrols and inspection of the various outposts?"

I nodded. "It is probably past time that I accompany such a patrol."

Alambiel looked amused. "You would say that, Kentauri. Well, I shall write to you so you may keep abreast of all that's happening here in the Cair…and so I can freely lament the fact that Tuulea is still somehow finding time in all this chaos of planning Peter and Thalia's wedding to give me the look she gets when she's up to her chin in matchmaker-y plotting."

I chuckled, "Perhaps you should be more concerned about behaving yourself so Tuulea and Alithia won't follow through on their threats to tie you down until your injuries have completely finished healing?"

She threw a cushion at me. Catching it, I tucked it back behind her shoulders then tilted her chin up so I might have a better view of her bruises. They were mostly faded now and only the faintest mark under her left eye indicated that she had had a black eye. "How are your wrists?"

"They itch." Her smile grew a little wider. "My wrists and my ankle will be completely healed before you get back from the patrol. And before you ask, yes, I will be plotting, so there's the only warning you get, Oreius."

"For that I am most grateful." Leaning down, I kissed her.

"Kat, has- Oh."

"Edmund, have I ever told how much I despise your timing?"

Straightening, I looked over my shoulder to see my dark colt, who cleared his throat, "Once or twice, I think. Ahem. My apologies, Kat, Oreius. I'll just come back on Firstday…when I know I won't be interrupting anything."

I raised an eyebrow as he started backing out, but Alambiel merely switched to the dangerously sweet tone she used when whoever irritated her was soon to meet an uncomfortable fate. "Try to remember, Edmund, that Oreius is not the only one who can assign you to visit the points of the compass."

"This is true, but you prefer making us run suicides and after what happened the last time you were injured, you're not allowed to oversee training when injured."

That _had _been one of the more interesting weeks, according to all reports (including Alambiel's nearly gleeful ones). When I had returned, the Kings had nearly worn their relief a little too openly after learning an injured Dame Sepphora would not be overseeing their training again.

Alambiel arched an eyebrow then leaned forward, still with that dangerously sweet smile on her lips. "But, everyone who will be overseeing training while Oreius is gone and I am injured owes me favors." I barely kept from laughing as she added, "Not to mention, my memory is quite good and I'll be where I might oversee your training before Oreius returns."

My dark colt's eyes widened slightly. "Right. I'll just be going before you decide to remember too well."

I watched in silence as he left then I gave Alambiel a mildly reproving look. She looked up at me innocently, "What? I never actually said I _would_ call in those favors for the express purpose of making training more interesting, I merely mentioned the fact that everyone who will oversee training _does_ owe me favors."

"Behave yourself, Sepphora."

The glint of playful challenge appeared in her blue eyes as she flashed a smile. "I wonder, Cyneward, how you're going to make me if you're going to be roaming Narnia for the next six weeks."

"I will find a way."

She laughed. "I wouldn't be surprised…and only slightly impressed."

I snorted, "Minx." Then I touched her hair, "I will look forward to your letters, my milis cantalach."

"You will write back, a chara?"

"Of course." Leaning down, I kissed her once more and this time no one intruded. Cupping her cheek, I kissed her forehead. "I fear I must see to my paperwork now. We will talk more later."

"Eighth hour?"

I went over what yet needed my attention then shook my head regretfully. "No. I would prefer spending tomorrow with you and not with my work, so I cannot come at eighth hour. However, I should be able to join you at eleventh hour and then we can watch the stars together."

_Finis_

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one. **

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**Lady Alambiel **

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